Secrets at the Ivory
by Odesta is the Besta
Summary: Annie is the eldest and only daughter from the Cresta family, and her family is eager to have her marry, as she is nearing eighteen. There is an arranged fiance, named Thomas Trace, who proves to be quite nice to the prized Cresta daughter. But what happens when her usual piano teacher falls ill and sends a younger, more attractive tutor who goes by the name Finnick Odair?
1. Chapter 1

p style="width: 500px; margin: 20px 20px 0px 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"It was a rainy, overcast day in August when Annie Cresta received the news that she was to marry a man she'd never met. Not a great day for the woman to say the least, but a day she'd known was coming all the less. The girl was almost eighteen, and she'd shown little interest in any boy who'd shown an interest in her. And one day her parents had gotten tired in their daughter's lazy search for a husband, and dutifully took up the task for them. Though honestly, the betrothed couple was probably lucky to have not known the other previously, because both had their own despicable qualities. She devoted her time to reading, music, and drawing, refusing to speak a word to anyone until she had finished, which wasn't exactly desirable in a fiancé. And he, being quite the social butterfly, flirted with every girl within a twenty foot radius, except of course, his new fiancé./span/p  
>p style="width: 500px; margin: 20px 20px 0px 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" Just over a week later, the pair met for the first time, per arrangement of each one's parents. Annie Cresta was primped and polished in her sparkling green gown, matching perfectly her emerald eyes, and he, whom she discovered went by the name Thomas Trace, wore his most dashing suit, obviously dressed to impress. A polite smile from Annie served as a greeting to Thomas, who just smiled back and said a quick hello, introducing himself. They were in the large ballroom alone, something that would normally have hinted to the possibility of something scandalous happening, proved to just add to the air of mystery surrounding both of the teenagers.span/p  
>p style="width: 500px; margin: 20px 20px 0px 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" A minute passed, then two and three fell away, time ticking by agonizingly slowly in the painful silence. After the clocked swept over the mark indicating their fifth minute- Annie had been counting- Thomas blurted out in a nervous tone, the words obviously just slipping out.span/p  
>p style="width: 500px; margin: 20px 20px 0px 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""You look very pretty today, Ms. Cresta. I-I mean Annie. Can I call you that?" He paused, awaiting a response. Annie nodded curtly, and he continued. "Your parent's have told me a lot about you. I assume they've told you about me, yeah?"span/p  
>p style="width: 500px; margin: 20px 20px 0px 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"Annie bit her lip. They hadn't. Though she thought it might sound rude if she told them that until that morning, she didn't even know his name.span/p  
>p style="width: 500px; margin: 20px 20px 0px 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Oh, yes." She lied with a slight smile, nodding before she went on. "They've told me loads about you, Thomas. But I do believe it'd be more interesting coming from you."span/p  
>p style="width: 500px; margin: 20px 20px 0px 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" With a poor attempt at charming him and a way to now learn about this mystery man, Annie felt pleasantly satisfied with herself. And by the way his mouth was starting to part as if to speak, it seemed she'd done her job.span/p  
>p style="width: 500px; margin: 20px 20px 0px 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Well, that's very sweet, Annie." He started, "But I'm afraid my story won't be as well spoken as your parents may have put it." Thomas warned with a slight laugh on his lips.span/p  
>p style="width: 500px; margin: 20px 20px 0px 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" Annie just smiled, politely waiting as he told tales of everything from his family, which consisted of six younger brothers and his parents, to large fishing expeditions, where he'd caught a bit more than you'd expect. Some of the stories seemed a bit unrealistic, though entertaining nonetheless, so Annie never interrupted. She liked his voice, it was a smooth sound, one that rose and fell in pitch fluidly to match the tone he was trying to convey perfectly. A few times he'd accidentally let it slip that because he was nearing eighteen and had younger brothers who'd found someone they'd like to marry, the wedding between them wasn't on his agenda until recently, either. Though as he tried to strongly point out, she was "kind and ladylike—nothing like any other girl he'd talked to".span/p  
>p style="width: 500px; margin: 20px 20px 0px 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" It was almost an hour later when he finished talking, and Annie had still not said a single word besides an occasional gasp of faux surprise or a laugh. In the course of that time, their conversation had moved from the middle of the spacious dance floor to the small bench at the piano, where they could sit comfortably, their bodies staying the modest few inches apart.span/p  
>p style="width: 500px; margin: 20px 20px 0px 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" Annie's mother spoke next, entering the room just as Thomas asked for Annie's story; neither of the two realizing how much time had passed.span/p  
>p style="width: 500px; margin: 20px 20px 0px 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Children?" The mother asked, the sharp click-clack of her heels tapping across the room towards them. When she stopped, the mother was behind Annie, a gloved hand on her shoulder.span/p  
>p style="width: 500px; margin: 20px 20px 0px 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Yes?" The pair responded almost in unison, earning a quiet giggle from Annie at the timing.span/p  
>p style="width: 500px; margin: 20px 20px 0px 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""It is time for Annie's piano lesson, Thomas. Your mother is waiting outside to take you home. I trust you had a good meeting?"span/p  
>p style="width: 500px; margin: 20px 20px 0px 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Oh, yes, Ma'am. This was lovely; might I be able to come speak with your daughter again some time?" Thomas asked politely, both him and Annie standing up from the bench. He faced her, taking her hand gently and pressing a kiss to the top of it.span/p  
>p style="width: 500px; margin: 20px 20px 0px 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" Annie's mother nodded slowly, saying hesitantly. "Yes, may I escort you out?" He nodded. The mother looked to Annie. "Your usual tutor was sick today. A trusted friend of his will be coming instead, and he will be here any minute now, so make sure you're prepared."span/p  
>p style="width: 500px; margin: 20px 20px 0px 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" And with that, she walked out of the room, Thomas walking a few paces behind her, as to not get lost. Annie's mother, Cornelia Cresta, was not a soft lady. She would always tell you her opinion, whether you liked it or not. And while her's and her daughter's personalities were near opposites, the two balanced each other out. Cornelia helped keep a more stable, organized life for Annie, and Annie helped Cornelia see the bits of life that she could afford to take lightly. span/p  
>p style="width: 500px; margin: 20px 20px 0px 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);" Just as her mother had promised, a replacement piano tutor came into the room just a minute later. He was tall and broad shouldered, with slicked back bronze hair, and the most beautiful eyes Annie could ever imagine she'd seen.span/p  
>p style="width: 500px; margin: 20px 20px 0px 0px;"span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);""Hello…" He greeted smoothly, the unnamed man with a warm smile on his lips, "My name is Finnick Odair, I assume you're Miss Annie Cresta?"span/p 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two.**

"I-I uh… yes that's me. You can just call me Annie though, Mister Odair." Annie stuttered, fully stunned. In all honesty, she'd been expecting some crabby old man as a replacement, not a boy who couldn't have been more than two years her senior.

Finnick laughed at her nervousness, seeming genuinely friendly and kind. "Your usual tutor had said you were a bit shy at first; I didn't expect you to be this shy though." He teased, holding his hand out gently, asking for hers. "You can call me Finnick, if you'd like." A smile tugged at his lips as Annie gave him her hand, and he pulled it to his lips, pressing a gentle, polite kiss to the back of it before releasing her.

Annie, whose cheeks had turned blood red at the action, sat down at the piano bench with Finnick sitting down right beside her. Something felt odd in the girl's stomach, it twisted and turned in a million different ways that made her want to giggle, squeal, curl up in her bed, and cry all at the same time. With the bench being quite small, Annie could feel the boy beside her's body heat leeching through the fabric of his shirt and the space between them to her, another thing that caused the feeling in her midsection.

"Alright…Finnick." She said with a faint smile at him. Her cheeks burned to a boil from the blush, and she silently willed them to calm, hoping that she wasn't coming down with something.

"Alright…Annie." He said with the same teasing tone as earlier as he pulled a few sheets of music from his bag, placing the first on the small stand sitting on the piano right above the keys. "Would you mind playing this first? It's new mind you, but I believe you could handle it." Finnick winked.

_Was that a wink?_ Annie couldn't help but think to herself, though she just nodded. Turning to face the keys again, a bit more than notes ran through her mind as she positioned her fingers and began to play. Without a doubt she was messing up, and from the way Finnick bit his lower lip, she could tell that he noticed too. Wait. Why was she paying attention to him? She couldn't tell, but the view from the corner of her peripheral vision of him looked faintly like an angel with the golden light cast from the candlelit chandelier serving as his halo.

It was another minute of playing before Finnick gently put a hand over her shaking one to stop its movement, smiling faintly and shaking his head. "No, no, no." He murmured, his tone more soothing than reprimanding as he moved her hand to a different note, his still guiding hers as he pressed her finger down to create a note. "This one here, Annie. I'll help you." Finnick promised.

He stood up and moved so that he was crouching behind Annie, his arms around her, and his hands over hers to control them. Note by note he guided her trembling fingers to keep with the song, though he went slower to help let her understand each note. Though in truth, Annie wasn't truly paying much attention to the song. While beautiful, it didn't hold the same air of mystery as the man named Finnick with his arms around her. The feeling in her stomach returned, and this time, the girl couldn't help but let out a giggle.

The man assumed it was her grasping the song that brought out her laughter, so he just smiled and continued with his motions as she thought. In her mind, Annie kept trying to rationalize the feelings stirring inside her. She'd never felt something as powerful as this, and it surprised her. The song was over soon after, and Finnick let go and sat back down beside her, grinning like an idiot.

"Did you like the song? Or get it at all?" He asked, sounding quite giddy to say the least.

Annie nodded and smiled faintly, deciding that she liked the man. Though how, she couldn't decide. He was just funny, kind, and not at all hard to look at. "I loved it, what's it called, Finnick?"

This time it was Finnick's turn to blush. "Well uh… It doesn't really have a name yet. I wrote it though, so I'm glad you liked it."

The girl gasped, smiling happily as she heard his statement. "You wrote that? It's amazing! You should turn it in somewhere; you'd get an awful lot of money for it." Annie decided, leaning in slightly out of habit when she got excited.

Finnick noticed her quick change in demeanors, from shy to outgoing. If this is what it caused, maybe he'd have to tell her these things more. "Oh, no. But thank you, Annie, it means a lot to me." He smiled, almost shy himself. "I couldn't sell it; no one in the right mind would take it. And besides, I'm not sure I've finished with it, and I have much better ones, too."

Annie smiled, but then realized something as she thought more and more about the man. This was the feeling that people described in the books she read when they met the one they ended up marrying. No. She would not allow herself to feel this way with him. She was engaged! Though, if this was the famed "love" people strived for, why hadn't she felt it with Thomas? Possibly, she thought, the feeling would come a bit later with him. Or maybe it had already come, just with a more subtle blade than this. Either way, Finnick didn't feel this way about her, so it didn't matter. She could want him more than the wolf longed for the moon and it would make no difference at all.

It was nearly five minutes later when Finnick spoke again, sounding confused that she hadn't responded. "Annie? Are you alright?" He asked with his fingertips below Annie's chin gently to get her to look at him.

"Oh, yes, I apologize. I was just thinking, silly me." Annie murmured, blushing again as she looked at him, staring into the wonderfully endless eyes the color of the ocean belonging to the man across from her.

A slightly awkward pause appeared after that, the pair just looking at the other with unreadable expressions, each trying to figure out the other. Another moment passed, and Finnick placed his hand over Annie's gently, a motion that while not going by unnoticed, didn't receive an initial response apart from a blush on her cheeks and a small smile. Another minute slipped away, and both Annie and Finnick just continued to stare at each other wordlessly, and in a quick motion, the boy smiled, slowly removing his hand from hers, asking in a tone Annie could only describe as adorable.

"Should we get back to playing now, Annie? I wouldn't want your mother to be cross with me." He said, his voice lower than before, and slower too.

"We should, I'm afraid." Annie admitted, smiling softly as she brought her voice to a whisper as well, as if there were someone else in the large ballroom that would hear them, even though they were completely alone. "Though, to be honest, I'd much prefer just speaking with you, it seems you might have some interesting stories." She said, biting her lip gently as she looked at him, involuntarily leaning in slightly.

"Then I'll make you a deal." Finnick smirked. "If you can play one full song without any big mistakes, we'll just talk the rest of the time." He offered, and Annie nodded, smiling as she took his small bag of materials from him, leafing through the sheets of music until she found one of her favorites.

Annie set up the sheet reading, in big letters, "Grieg Op. 54 No. 4 (Notturno)" across the top. Taking a deep breath first, she began to play after a moment, making considerably less mistakes than with Finnick's original song earlier. After a few notes, the girl ended up humming along to the music, almost having known the piece by heart.

She finished a few minutes later and looked to the man beside her, hopeful that he liked the music as much as her. The song, dubbed "The Night Song" by her mother, had been a song that she grew with, being able to hum every note by age four. It was the song that played through her dreams on occasion, played in the background of some ball, filled with dancing couples with pearls of sweat on their brow from the warmth of the room. Though in those dreams, Annie always found herself alone, utterly invisible to the group of lovers… which was just how she liked it.

Finnick was silent, though a thin smile spread across his lips. "That was… That was lovely, Annie. That piece is one of my favorites, actually." He admitted as he took the sheet music and placed it back in its proper spot in his bag.

The girl smiled at the snippet of information, shifting to turn her body towards him, her dress not leaving that to be an easy task. "Really?" She asked, now fully grinning. "I've known it since I was small, my mother used to play it for me as a baby so I'd sleep easier." And she laughed, finding a small blush on her cheeks.

"Annie," Finnick paused, laughing quietly with her as he leaned in, his voice lowering until it aired on the side of flirtation. "Tell me more, please. I want to hear every detail of your life, from start to now. I'm sure it has to be interesting, yes?"

Annie laughed again and shook her head, the blush growing deeper at his request. "I'm not interesting, not in the least. It'd bore you to sleep, and then I'd be sad, because I'd hate to be rambling on to myself." She said, her own voice teasing the line between friendly and an attempt at wooing him.

Another shake of the head followed her comment, this time given by Finnick. "I highly doubt that, ma'am. Not a word spoken by you could ever put me to sleep unless you bade them so. And were that to happen, I'd dream up an image of you, anyway, so I see no downside." The man almost purred, his sea green eyes shining warmly with sincerity as he looked at her, smiling at the red coloring appearing in her face, presumably from his words.

"Well…" She paused and bit her lip, her voice growing small and a bit unsure. "I'm sure I could tell a few stories, if you're so sure."

He nodded, and the girl talked. Finnick interjected a few times with questions or jokes about the moment, which made her laugh as well, feeling more comfortable with him. She told him everything. From birthday parties, to schooling, and even to the time where she'd broken a rib from falling down the stairs from trying to walk in a pair of high heeled shoes and lying to her mother, telling her that she'd laced her corset too tight for the party that night, there was only one subject she tried to avoid. The engagement.

Annie was sure that the man either didn't want to hear about her soon to be husband, or would be upset that she hadn't mentioned him before, when they both practiced the small flirtations shamelessly, so she just never said anything. The man named Thomas Trace didn't exist in Finnick Odair's version of Annie's story, just the glories and downfalls of her strict upbringing.

Before either had noticed, their few hours of lessons were coming to a quick end, and Finnick regretfully had her stop the story, promising to be back soon to have her finish, and to give his. And with a hurried, though meaningful kiss planted on her cheek, he was gone, only a quickly fading indention on the piano bench from where he'd sat left to prove his existence. Maybe, Annie thought, having Finnick Odair as a tutor wouldn't be so bad at all.

And as if answering her own thought, Annie whispered aloud to herself, a blissful smile growing in its warmth. "No, Annie, it most certainly won't."


End file.
